


Terminal

by chapstick_addict



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Flirting, Friendship/Love, Genetic Disorders & Abnormalities, Hux forgot to propose, Late Night Conversations, Mommy Issues, Oops, Oral Sex, Possessive Hux, Power of Words, Power of personality, Protective Hux, Reader is not force sensative, She's just really good at reading people, Siren song, Terminal Illnesses, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapstick_addict/pseuds/chapstick_addict
Summary: You didn't work for the First Order, but you were an asset. You made a comfortable life for yourself, until you get some bad news.





	1. An Asset

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add more tags later, I'm sure. *throws glitter* Enjoy some angst!

You weren’t First Order. You were more of a consultant. An asset.Sometimes you would be sent to Resistance friendly planets to try to win them over with your charm and common sense. You knew how to turn a phrase to make it seem that your will was the only one that mattered. Naturally, you were paid very well for you service.

 

Honestly, working for the First Order had been just the break you needed. You had always had a persuasive personality—had always used it to your advantage. But until the ship you had charmed your way onto was captured by a First Order Stardestroyer, the most you had gotten was scraps. Not through lack of skill, but through lack of opportunity.

 

The First Order had provided you with that opportunity.

 

It was General Hux that had spotted you, decided your skills were best used at his service. He had gone into your cell after several of his officers failed to break you. He had been surprised when he entered, there wasn’t a scratch on your pretty face. You had persuaded his disciplined soldiers that they didn’t actually want to hurt you.

 

“I want information on the pilot of the ship you were on.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t know him well,” you purred. “But I could know you, if you wanted. You’re much nicer to look at than those dourfaced suits that were in here before.”

 

“He is suspected of aiding a known enemy of the First Order,” he had continued unfazed.

 

“Oh!” you said with some surprise. “You’re not like the others, are you? I’m not overly familiar with how your little organization works, but I assume it’s safe to say you outrank the others?”

 

“Just tell me—“

 

“Tell you what? Tell you that the pilot has ties to the Resistance? You knew that already. He probably broke ages ago, am I right? But I doubt he could really offer much intel. The man talks a good game, but he’s a coward underneath.”

 

Hux had pressed his lips to a thin line at that point.

 

“I’m much more interested in talking about you . . . General?” Your eyes were wide and hypnotizing. “Let me guess. Absentee father and overbearing mother . . . no, wait . . . other way around, isn’t it? Now, that is interesting.”

 

“How dare you—“

 

“So anxious to gain your father’s approval you fashioned yourself into the paragon of military strategists, eh? I’m sure you’re very good.” Your smile was infuriating. Mocking. Alluring. Your plump bottom lip pinched between white teeth in a vulgar display of sensuality.

 

“What are you?” he asked, eyeing you cautiously.

 

“What I am, General, is exactly what you need.”

 

 

You had joined the First Order after that. Unofficially, of course. Technically speaking you held no rank. You were a specialist. The General’s pet, according to some vicious whispers. Ren had confirmed you had no force sensitivity.

 

“I’m good with people,” you laughed. “I always have been. People like me. They want to be my friend.” You had allowed your tongue to dart out at that, licking your lips slowly. “I can be your friend, General.” The way your eyes darted to his lap made your intentions glaringly obvious.

 

Years past, and you and the General had an understanding of sorts. You were sent to planets the First Order needed, but didn’t want to waste resources on. You were brought in to interrogate prisoners when torture wouldn’t work, but Ren would be overkill. You would watch the prisoners from behind a two way mirror for a while to get a feel for them before entering their cell and pretending to be their friend. You were good. People wanted to believe that you cared about them.

 

And sometimes in the evenings, the General would invite you for a drink in his quarters. You imagined that was where the rumors really took off. But there was no base to them, much to your disappointment.

 

The General just liked talking to you. Once in a while you were able to make him laugh, and then you would beam at him like a cadet who had finally done something right. He was beautiful when he laughed. As much as you would have liked something more, you were content with just being a companion. Everyone needs a friend. Even you. And you had gone so long without one, always looking to get something from someone.

 

But with the General, he had already given you what you wanted. A roof over your head, decent food, a few luxuries here and there that you were able to purchase with your very generous salary. You saved the First Order so much money and time by winning the hearts of entire systems with a few honeyed words, that no one seemed to mind how well paid you actually were. You saved most of it. Your job depended on your looks. You were certain you could still fool people, but most of your bag of tricks would have to be reworked. Might as well retire at that point.

 

No, you and the General had developed the closest thing to a friendship you would allow yourself. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t like to tease him.

 

Brushing your fingertips down his arm when speaking with him.

 

Resting your hand on his thigh when you laughed at something he said.

 

Tonguing the rim of your glass to get an errant drop of liquor.

 

And always, giving him a smoldering gaze that made even him squirm . . . just slightly, just enough to satisfy your wicked heart.

 

Your favorite, of course, was when you knew he was watching you with a prisoner. When the situation called for simmering sexuality instead of just a friendly face. Your eyes would darken as you lowered the tone of your voice.

 

Sometimes in the middle of your play, you’d saunter over to the two way mirror, where you know the General was standing, watching it all play out. You would act as though you were fixing your appearance—running a hand through your loose hair, running fingers over the delicious curves of your body. Touching your face, your mouth.

 

He would be very grumpy afterwards. Perhaps he would lecture you about wasting time when time was of the essence. He would storm away to his office for the rest of the day, and refuse to speak with you. Until you were invited to his quarters for a drink.

 

“Do you think he would be happy?” he had asked you one night after he had one too many brandies. Normally he was more disciplined with himself, but something about you made him lose a bit of the stiffness in his shoulders.

 

“Who?” you asked, sipping your own drink. You knew who, but it was important for him to admit it.

 

His lip curled in a sneer. “My father.” His voice was quiet, strained. “He was a bastard, and I’m glad he’s gone, but . . .”

 

“You still want his approval,” you finished for him.

 

When he looked at you, his eyes were bloodshot and pleading.

 

You sighed. “I know what you would want to hear, Hux, but I don’t like lying to you.”

 

“Then don’t.”

 

You took a gulp of brandy. “From what you’ve described, a man like your father would never be happy with you. You could crown yourself Emperor, and there would still be some little fault.”

 

His face was sour as he turned away, draining his glass.

 

“But,” you continued. “Men are often jealous of their sons. A man like your father, who inspired such loyalties with his men, would burn at the thought of his son surpassing him.”

 

“You think I’ve surpassed him?” he asked, almost laughing.

 

“When you were a child, you looked at your father like he was a god. But he was just a man. Brilliant in his time, but his light would be dimmed compared to yours . . . and what you’ve achieved.”

 

He still wouldn’t look at you.

 

You sighed. “For what it’s worth. Women can be jealous of their daughters too. Their youth, their beauty, their potential. Oftentimes women sacrifice all of that to have children. And while her sons will always love her and revere her, daughters are mostly seen as rivals. Or, as what their mothers could have been, had they chosen a different path.”

 

He looked at you then. He saw the way your eyes pinched, the way your smile was just a bit more strained than it normally was. He reached out, and pulled you towards him. He refilled both your glasses before encouraging you to press closer against his warm flesh.

 

“To our potential, then,” he toasted.

 

For a moment his eyes had gone dark, and he looked at your mouth. There was a droplet of brandy on your bottom lip, and he was tempted to lick it away. Instead, he pressed his dry lips to your temple as you drank your toast.

 

 

And so that was how your life went. It was a good life. A simple life. Not the life you had dreamed when you were a little girl, but not everyone could be a sassy princess that topples an empire. But you were okay with that. You were happy enough.

 

Until . . .

 

“I’m sorry to inform you, miss,” the medic looked at you with pity in his eyes. “But it’s terminal.”

 

“Terminal?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t understand, I thought I was clear.”

 

“You were . . . at least we had thought you were. It’s a very rare form, miss. Genetic. Had we had more detailed records of your medical history, we would have caught it sooner. But even then, we can only treat it. There’s no known cure.”

 

You took a breath. A deep, shuddering breath, but it was all you could manage. “Alright,” you said with finality. “What do we do now?”

 

The medic went over your treatment options. Some of them could buy you another twenty years, assuming they could be used on you. They had to study it a bit more before the medic was comfortable with using those treatments.

 

You chose the less invasive option for now. You may change your mind once the tests came back.

 

They drew your blood, took skin, hair, and marrow samples, and scheduled you for weekly appointments.

 

“I will inform your superior by the end of the day,” the medic informed you, a kind smile on his face.

 

You paused. “No,” you stated. “The General has enough on his plate without medics pestering him. I’ll inform him myself.” You took the prescription he handed to you.

 

“It’s protocol, miss,” he tried to argue.

 

“I said I’d inform him myself,” you snapped, eyes blazing. You took another breath. “I have a meeting with him soon anyway, and you have enough to do.”

 

The medic nodded as you turned away.

 

The halls of the _Finalizer_ were cold, but you felt colder. If there was one thing you knew, it’s that the General didn’t need to know. He couldn’t know. He wouldn’t know.

 

 

 


	2. A Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all secrets can be kept, especially when a nosey little force user wants to taunt a Ginger General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws glitter* Have some smut!

You didn’t let your diagnosis change your life. You went to your weekly appointments so the medics could monitor you, and you took the meds prescribed. You asked about the effects of the drugs, and opted for ones that would let you keep your hair over the ones that would still let you drink alcohol. Beauty was important with your job, and playing with your hair made up a good portion of your bag of tricks.

 

But you started saying no to the General’s invitations.

 

Not all of them, mind you. After all, you couldn’t have him snooping around where he shouldn’t be. When you did go, you left your glass untouched. You got the General into deeper conversations, hoping he wouldn’t notice, or would chalk it up to your being distracted.

 

You had to change your diet. You didn’t like that. You were already careful with what you ate, careful to maintain the curves that drove some men wild. But now you had to be more careful. Some foods would react badly with your medication, causing you to run to the bathroom to vomit. You lost weight. Not enough for most people to notice, but enough for you to get annoyed.

 

And that’s how you treated all of this. An annoyance. You took it as seriously as you could, while telling yourself that it wasn’t really _that_ big of a deal. You were just dying. But wasn’t everybody?

 

The tests were inconclusive. They had to be run again. The first tests had taken weeks. They decided to do some more shortly after the second round. Different tests this time, at least.

 

The General looked at you sometimes. Not the dark look when he was frustrated with you, nor even the cold look when he was furious. There was concern in his gaze. You pretended you didn’t see it. You didn’t tell him. You wouldn’t tell him.

 

And for six months, you were able to keep your secret. Not that you really needed to worry. In the end, someone else told it.

 

 

Lord Ren had destroyed a rather large section of the ship, and the General was not having any of it today. Ren—of course—just stood there as the red-head continued to lecture and berate him.

 

“Don’t take your frustrations out on me, General,” Ren finally snapped. “Just because you won’t have your little pet much longer doesn’t give you any right to act as though you’re superior!”

 

“What the hell are you going on about?” the General’s face was red with rage.

 

“Oh? I suppose she hasn’t told you? Well that’s a shame now, isn’t it? I thought you were ‘friends’ with her.”

 

“Y/n isn’t going anywhere. In fact, she’s requested to stay on the Finalizer until further notice, and isn’t scheduled to leave for any diplomatic missions for at least a month. And I don’t appreciate you insinuating that she’s—“

 

“Oh, of course, General,” Ren chuckled. Suddenly the situation had become much more enjoyable. “I suppose you haven’t looked into any of her medical records recently? Strange, considering how she’s behaving for the past few months. I would have thought you would grow at least a little suspicious.”

 

“I—I trust that all is well with her . . . she would have told me.”

 

“Because you’re such good friends?” Ren mocked, pushing past the General with a shove. “She deceives people for a living, General. Why would she be honest with you?”

 

Later that night, the General snooped into her medical records. He was her immediate superior. He had access to them. When he saw the word “terminal”, his blood froze. There was no set amount of time, but it looked like she was getting sicker. Though, how much of that was the illness, and how much was the treatment for the illness, he couldn’t be sure.

 

Why were you taking the easiest treatment? There were a few surgical options that looked like

they promised better results. The recovery time would be longer, even in a bacta tank. But according to your charts you had been being treated for six months with little progress. His mouth formed a thin line. At this rate the treatment would kill you before the illness.

 

He checked what medical services you had access to. Since you were just a consultant, it wasn’t very much. Just a usual yearly check, birth control implant, and some credits to act as a cushion for emergency procedures. He frowned, changing her status so that she had access to top quality medical care. The quality of medical care he and others of similar rank had access to.

 

He paused at the reason behind the request. He turned to look at a holo capture he kept on his desk. You had agreed to be his escort for a social function he couldn’t get out of. You were dressed in a glittering red dress that showed off your delicious curves. Every man looked at the pair with envy. Every man wanted you on his arm, and you had been on his. He remembered the surge of desire he had felt that night. How close he had come to throwing you onto his bed and having his way with you.

 

He turned to your personal files, changing your marital status. You would be angry with him, he was certain, but it was the best way to get you the care you needed. He’d arrange a simple ceremony afterwards. You may have been one of the most dramatic people he ever met, but he knew that you felt differently when it came to your heart. You had shown it to him so rarely.

 

With that done, he sent you a request to join him for a drink. You couldn’t drink alcohol with the medications you were on, so he went about making you both some ginger tea. It would help settle your stomach. He checked his datapad while the tea steeped.

 

_Forgive me, General. I’m afraid something has come up._

_~Y/n_

The General sneered at the message, dropping the datapad on his desk before striding towards your living quarters.

 

 

 

 

You had wanted to spend time with the General, and so you were disappointed that you had to decline his invitation. So long as you were with the General, you didn’t have to think about your illness, or the toll the treatment was taking on you.

 

Unfortunately, you were paying part of that toll in the form of puking out whatever it was that had bothered your stomach. Your body shook as you gagged into the bowl of your toilet. After what will hopefully be the last expulsion for the night, you went to the sink to rinse out your mouth. You hated vomiting. Hated the feeling. Hated the smell.

 

You splashed cold water on your face before stumbling to your main living area.

 

You weren’t expecting him.

 

He only gave you a moment to see him before pressed you to the wall, covering your protesting mouth with his own. His body was pressed hard to your own while he devoured your mouth, tongue forcing its way past your lips. His greedy hands wandered over your body.

 

It felt good. Better than good. He knew where to touch you, how to kiss you. Your heart was racing, and you couldn’t stop the groan from escaping your mouth.

 

You gasped as his mouth wandered to your neck, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin of your throat.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded, pushing against him.

 

“What I should have done as soon as I saw you,” he explained before attempting to seal your mouth with his again.

 

“Stop!” you shouted.

 

He paused, blue eyes looking into yours. If you weren’t mistaken, there was a hint of pain behind his eyes.

 

“I-I just spewed my guts, and I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

 

“Then go brush your teeth,” he stated, brushing a single finger gently down your face. “Or don’t. Either way I’m going to kiss you until you’re breathless, and fuck you into your mattress.”

 

You held your breath as he gazed into your eyes. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Did you think you could keep it from me forever?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically strained. He wasn’t pressing you into the wall anymore—his arms wrapping around you gently. “You should have told me.”

 

Tears pricked your eyes, but you angrily wiped them away. “Why? I don’t need your pity, General!”

 

“No, but evidentially, you could use my help!” he snapped at you, eyes flashing. He took a breath, holding you tight against himself once again. “But that’s neither here nor there. You and I will discuss it tomorrow.”

 

He brushed your lips with his own, and your knees felt weak. You trembled in his arms, and it wasn’t all anger.

 

“For tonight,” he whispered against your skin. “You are mine.”

 

You didn’t resist him when he brought you to your bedroom, or when he stripped you of your clothes. You stared when he removed his own, and shivered when he pressed his warm body against yours. He didn’t fuck you right away. He kissed you languidly. His hands were never still, always roaming your body and making you feel wonderful.

 

You whispered his name as his lips brushed your skin. You wouldn’t put a name to the look you saw in his eyes, but it made your core feel so warm and tingly. When his mouth finally reached your cunt you sighed, running your hands to through his perfect hair. He groaned into you as your fingers tugged on the ginger strands.

 

“Taste so good,” he muttered into you before licking a long stripe up your slit. “I could eat you out for a solid week and still want more.”

 

You moaned as you felt two long fingers slip inside your cunt, rubbing that delicious spot on your front wall. Your body shuddered as he continued sucking on your clit. Warmth spread from your core till it tingled in your fingers and toes. Your nipples were hard in the cool air, and your lungs burned as you panted.

 

“I-I’m gonna,” tried to warn. “Shit, I’m gonna—“

 

He just moaned, holding your hips down with his arm as he doubled his efforts. It didn’t take long. You arched your back, hands fisting his hair as you cried out his name. Your thighs clamped around his head as though to keep him there just a little longer. By the time your muscles relaxed, Hux’s face was deliciously flushed, his lips glistening with your cum.

 

He crawled up your body. “Come and taste yourself, kitten,” before his lips claimed yours.

 

You groaned at your own taste on his tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. While you continued your kiss, his hands wandered across your body—squeezing and caressing your flesh, groaning in pleasure.

 

“You feel so damn good, pet,” he muttered as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Are you ready for me, kitten?”

 

You were breathless, groaning your ascent as your hips thrust up towards him in eagerness. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t craved it since the moment you met the beautiful man. Every time you were invited to his quarters, you had hoped he would finally ask you to bed, or at least kiss you. Finally, you were getting exactly what you wanted.

 

Hux didn’t waste any more time. You gasped as he entered you in one thrust, your cunt clenching his cock tight.

 

“Oh fuck,” you both breathed in unison.

 

Hux’s face was beautiful in his pleasure, and his groans flooded your body with even more arousal. He set a hard pace, fucking you with all the passion his years of denial brought forth. He mouthed at your neck, teeth nipping here and there. He wanted to mark you, bruise you, claim you. You were his, and he wasn’t going to allow you to ever question that.

 

You were sweating, your breath erratic as he pounded into you. “H-hux! Oh, fuck, Hux!”

 

“I should have done this years ago,” he admitted. “I should have done this when I first saw you, and wanted you. Naughty little minx. You just loved teasing me, didn’t you?”

 

You moaned, agreeing that you did. You couldn’t help yourself. Knowing you could get him riled up made you hot. There were many times—after he fled to the safety of his office—that you shut yourself in your quarters to tend to your needs. You couldn’t have known that the General was attending similar needs in the privacy of his locked office, thoughts of you plaguing him until he finally made himself cum with your name on his lips.

 

The pace was too much to continue, and you had both worked yourselves into a frenzy. You came first, gripping his slim body against yours as tight as you could in your weakened state. He gasped as he felt you squeeze him, milking him dry. His face was buried in your neck as he continued to thrust, until he was absolutely certain he had nothing left to give you. Only then did he collapse beside you, gathering your shaking, sweating self against him.

 

“Tomorrow,” he panted against your hair. “We will discuss treatment options. There are some prospects that will keep you with me for much longer.”

 

You shook your head. “I don’t want anything invasive, Hux.”

 

He kissed your forehead gently. “Please, love. Please, just consider it. In another twenty years, there may be better options, perhaps even a cure.”

 

You laughed at that. “You want to keep me around that long?”

 

“Well,” you were certain you could see a blush on his normally pallid face. “Yes, actually.”

 

You couldn’t say anything, not when there was so much sincerity in his gaze. You swallowed hard. “Alright, then. I’ll consider it.”

 

He smiled, pulling you even closer. “There is probably one thing I should warn you about.”

 

“Oh?” you asked, yawning. You were absolutely exhausted, and looked forward to sleeping in a warm bed with the General.

 

“I changed our marital status. Technically speaking, you are now Lady Hux.”

 

“What?!” you exclaimed, propping yourself on your elbow so you could look at him. Embarrassment was painted on his face, but there was no remorse in his eyes. “Why would you do that without informing me?”

 

His brow furrowed. “You seem more upset that I didn’t tell you than you are about being my wife?”

 

“Well . . . I, uh,” you stumbled.

 

A slow smile spread on his face. “My, my. This might be the first time I’ve actually seen you flustered.” He pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I should have asked you first. But this way you have access to the best medical care.”

 

“But why would you do that? I mean . . . now you’re stuck with me.”

 

“I’d hardly call it ‘stuck’, my dear,” he explained. “Besides . . . you know why.”

 

You narrowed your eyes at him, convinced he was somehow mocking you.

 

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “I love you, you bloody idiot. So I’m happy you’re my wife, alright?”

 

A blush dusted your cheeks as you gave him a small, secret smile—hiding your face in his neck. “Alright . . . I guess that’s ok, then.”

 

“We’ll have to go through an actual ceremony, of course,” he admitted. “It can just be something small on board.” He squeezed your ass appreciatively. “We can celebrate later.”

 

You yawned again, unable to keep your eyes open when you were snuggled all safe and warm. “Alright. That’s fine.”

 

The last thing you remember before dozing off was how gently he held you, how sweetly he kissed your forehead. You hoped when you woke up that this wasn’t all some sort of drug induced dream. Because you’d really like to be Lady Hux.

 


End file.
